The Diary of Boo Radley
by Kraken's Daughter
Summary: Three diary entries from Arthur 'Boo' Radley. Written as a school assignment.
1. 8th of August

Obviously, I have no claim over Harper Lees great novel. This was a school project I did with a friend for English class. The dates on the two first chapters are complete speculation. Enjoy.

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**8th of August, 1912**

I'm not sure of the date because the sun's rays don't penetrate the basement walls, so I can't judge by the light. I'm writing this by lamp-light. I believe I've been locked-up for two weeks now.

My father hasn't come see me since he brought me back home and the only contact I've had with my mother has been when she brings me my meals. The food is a greyish sticky substance. I'm guessing it's oatmeal. I've been amusing myself by flinging it at the walls and watching it ooze down to the ground. Unfortunately, it's starting to smell. I'll have to clean it up soon.

I caught a few mice with oatmeal and a bottle a few days ago and made them race. It didn't work very well. They scattered in all directions. Maybe I'd do better with slugs. After all, they can't really get away from me. I'll look into it. Maybe it'll even catch on and become a popular game.

I wish my father would let me out already. I'm so bored. He's over-reacting to this whole situation. Leaving me shut up in a basement just because I locked a guy in an outhouse is not what I deserve. He should have just let me go to the industrial school. At least then I'd be with the Cunninghams. I mean, they did the same thing and no one's locking them up. It's not fair. My father is crazy. I wouldn't put it past him to leave me here forever.

Come to think of it, would he do that? I mean, I know I did something bad, but I am his son. He wouldn't just take away my life like that, would he? Then again, he's never really liked me. Nathan's always been his favourite. He's just like my father, after all − pious, a religious fanatic, reserved, cold, a stiff. Why should I be the black sheep of the family just because I like to have fun and be with friends? They've locked themselves away from society and now they think they can do the same to me. I hate them.

They can't keep me here! It's not humane. I have a right to freedom! I'll go crazy if I stay here, all alone, for too long. Not to mention that it's unhealthy. I don't think that I'm insane yet, but if they don't release me soon, they'll regret it.

Boo


	2. 16th of July

**16th of July, 1927**

I'm finally back home from the basement of the courthouse. My father came to pick me up. They suggested I go to an asylum, but he refused. Quite frankly, I'd take any change of scenery gladly, so I was disappointed to go back home. The incident that sent me to the courthouse basement is still fresh in my mind, so I'll relay it here, on these pages.

It was a pretty normal day. I started by checking on my collection of mice. My father had brought home a copy of the Tribune and I decided to cut out some pictures for my scrapbook. There were some great finds in the paper.

About halfway through the paper I saw a photograph of a picture show. It reminded me of the time I'd spent with my friends, the Cunninghams, when I was younger. That, in turn, brought back painful memories of being locked in the basement by my father. I spent about three months in the basement before my father would let me out into the rest of the house, but not outside.

I was seized by an inconceivable rage and my father chose that exact moment to walk by me. I drove the scissors into his leg as if by instinct. His agonized cry was enough to quench my anger, so I pulled the scissors out and wiped them on my pants. It left a bloody stain, but I didn't want to dirty the pictures I was cutting. My mother screamed bloody murder. She was over-reacting, as usual.

Soon the police arrived and I was taken away to the courthouse basement. It was dark and dank, but I didn't mind it one bit. It was the first time I'd gone out in the sunlight in years. It blinded me for a few minutes, but I soon grew accustomed to it once more. However, they took it away from me again once they put me in the basement. They didn't want to put me with Negroes in the jail.

I think my father expected me to apologise when he came to pick me up, or at least feel bad, but I won't and I don't. I'd do it all over again, if I had the chance. Unfortunately, they won't let me near anything sharp for a while. I've been locked up alone for so long, I couldn't imagine living in any other way, and it's all my father's fault.

Boo


	3. 1st of November

**November 1st, 1935**

Last night I killed a man. I'll try to write down everything I remember.

Around six o'clock, I saw the Finch children that live down the street head out on their usual route to school. The boy − I know now that his name is Jem − was carrying what looked like a giant ham awkwardly under his arm. The little girl, Scout, looked like she could easily fit into it.

They rounded the corner and I lost sight of them. Later, around 9 o'clock, I heard Scout's voice coming from the school-yard behind our house yell out something, so I went to a window to check on them. My eyes, well-fitted to the darkness, showed me a large shadow approaching Jem and what I assumed to be Scout, wearing the ham. I knew they were in trouble, so I rushed out to save them without thinking.

When I got there, Jem was already lying unconscious on the ground, his arm sticking out at an awkward angle. The man was trying to crush the ham that was Scout. He had dropped a kitchen knife on the ground and I grabbed it. As soon as I was within arms-length, I pulled him off of Scout and trust the knife into his gut. My next action was to gather up Jem and head for the Finches house. Scout, having rid herself of her costume, followed me.

When the sheriff arrived, he and Mr Finch had a long discussion about the whole incident. I wasn't really listening, but I understood that they intend to tell the public that the man, Ewell, fell on his knife and stabbed himself. I'm relieved that I won't be trust into the public's attention.

At the end of the evening, I went to see Jem and then Scout walked me home. The fact that I had just killed a man was fresh in my mind, but I couldn't let those children die. I want them to have the life I never did and I think killing that disgusting excuse for a man was worth it. Besides, Scout's lack of fear towards me all the thanks I could ever ask for. I am truly happy tonight. Nathan will scold me for it, but I don't care, because in those children's eyes, I'm a hero.

Boo


End file.
